Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Some thoughts on multiculturalism

As a nation,
largely and collectively, we take personal pride in calling ourselves a
multicultural or a pluralist society. Of course, why shouldn’t we—many rightly
point out. We are a very large nation, with the states having their unique,
distinct, yet collective heritage. The official state-sponsored secularism
makes matters like religious orientation a question of choice and is thus,
protected by law against discrimination. True, xenophobia is a reality in
today’s society, but often so when it confronts states as politico-economic
entities, rather than cultural ones; even the right-wing organisations are not
strictly anti-other cultures per se—at least not now; the BJP would require
Muslims and Christians be more Hindu,
or Raj Thackeray would want migrants to be fluent in Marathi culture (as if
that’d stop him and his north Indian bashing agenda). However, apart from such
instances of ethnocentric discourses, our notion of multiculturalism, even within
such complex structures and realities, is rather dogmatic and one-dimensional.

True, we may profess our multi-ethnic, pluralistic nature by
saying that festivals or religious celebrations are more widely celebrated, and
all; we may enjoy the cuisine of another state, or perhaps even dress
traditionally for any such occasion. But, these attributes are external, as
opposed to an internalised one, like say, language. People often remark that
Marathi speaking skills are rather efficient, for a Bengali, that is. And I get
even stranger looks when I say that I enjoy Tamil music.

“How can you?” they ask, wide-eyed.

“Because I like it, and I enjoy the music,” is my usually awkward
reply.

“But you don’t understand the language...”

“Do I need to?”

Well, need I elaborate anymore?

We are
programmed—as citizens, or Indians, or plainly as individuals in a
multicultural society—to think that each culture, so to say, is endemic. In the
real world, this would translate as one of those shows on SAB TV, where you
have practically every linguistic state group residing in a cooperative housing
society. And quite often, we are fooled to believe that such realities actually
exist. If we are indeed so multicultural, why then, for example, are people
from the north-eastern states conspicuously absent in Tarak Mehta’s cooperative
society? More so, not only are we led to believe that each culture is endemic,
but also that in being endemic, they are something external to us. We may enjoy
Gujrati theplas being a
Maharashtrian, or appams if we’re
Bengali. We might even dress, in rare occasions, in the “garb” of another
state. But internalised knowledge, say language, or music, is something unknown
to our schema of understanding.

Maybe that’s why a certain professor of mine expressed her
surprise when she met a student, who happens to be Catholic, and would sing
Hindi songs—not the larger ‘Bollywood’, mind you—with ease, as opposed to,
perhaps Christmas carols or Billy Joel.

In a broader
international context, we may take insult when we are lumped as south Asians;
because “we’re Indian, and we are a multicultural society.” But even within the
multicultural framework of our own society, we respond only and largely to the
state-sponsored idea of pluralism. More pressing issues, such as tribal identities
were left unresolved during the period of state formation. And now that we are
a properly functioning politico-economic union, with demarcated cultural hubs,
and indeed the idea of what exactly may constitute culture, such questions
would remain unanswered or unresolved.

A celebration of multiculturalism, thus, seems to require the marginalisation
or negation even, of certain cultures. And I shall not expect a relaxation of
those curious looks when I profess my likeness for Tamil music. So much for unity in diversity, I suppose.